


Dreaming of Wonderland

by Hekat



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Crack, Detroit, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Odd, Weird Fluff, Weird Plot Shit, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28464753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekat/pseuds/Hekat
Summary: Dream goes to a magical place, balderdash ensues.





	Dreaming of Wonderland

**Author's Note:**

> This was mostly written by an AI. Don’t take any of this seriously.

Dream was beginning to get very tired of sitting by his friend George on the bank and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her friend was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it. 

“What is the use of a book without pictures or conversations?” Dream thought.

Dream got up and went into the shop. George was on the telly, the old one. When she walked out, he was sitting by the bank, with his back to Dream. He was watching the telly, and he had an expression on his face like he was trying to decide whether to do the thing, like he wasn't sure what he should do, and he couldn't stand the thought of being there with no one. She saw his eyes staring at the television screen, and she thought, that's a strange face, and he looked so old.

The telly showed a picture of a boy and a girl holding hands.

George turned his head to look at her, and that made her uncomfortable. They looked so old, like they were still at school, or maybe their parents died. They were both wearing a blue jacket: George's and hers, the one from the shop she bought him in.

Her friend on the telly was talking about the war in Germany. It was hard to hear him, even though a girl on a television show was talking about him, and the picture on the screen showed a picture that was old, because of the war. It showed a little boy with a red hat and brown trousers, looking in a window like it was the first time they met.

The girl on the show said, "You look different. I didn't know you had a brother. And your parents are not really your real parents, are they? And you're not even really from here, are you? "

Her friend was silent.

"I've been looking for my brother," the girl said. "I've been trying to find him all my life. What are you doing on the telly?"

The telly showed a picture of a little guy with a hat and a black vest, and an old man looked at them, and he smiled. This was the man whose face had been on the newspaper for so long. And she was sitting across from him, and he said to her, "Are you here from London?"

She said, "No".

The old man said, "You don't live in London, do you?"

She said, "No", because she had moved to the country.

The old man said, "How long have you been here, have you?"

She said, "I've lived here for the last two years. And I've been looking." She looked at the old man. "I've been trying to find my brother. But I've only got pictures of him. And I know he's somewhere in Ireland."

The old man asked, "Have you been out of Ireland?"

She said, "No, I haven't been out of Ireland. I've been in London."

The old man said to her, "Why have you been looking?"

She told him, "Because I want a brother. I've been trying."

Dream thought of his wonderland, the overactive imagination that he had. Ideas buzzed into his mind, like fairies with clippers for wings, or flies that talked in many conlangs. Dream slowly got uninterested in the conversation at hand, going back to his room that housed the telly.

Dream looked at the telly, seeing static emerge from it. Before he knew anything else, the room turned into static, with incomprehensible noise, a cacophony that forced him to cover his ears.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them.

_**He was in Wonderland.** _

In Wonderland, nothing was natural here: things like horses with spikes for hair, a ball of tears, writing with scarecrows, the possibilities were endless.

But this wasn’t the Wonderland he thought so dearly of.

He looked around the room, seeing it was just that; it had no color. The walls and floors and ceiling were white and blue, with a single, glowing red lamp hanging in the center, the only source of light in Wonderland. He was a man, and he was in Wonderland.

But there was a voice in the back of his skull.

The voice whispered to him: "Dream. Do it. Do it. Do it."

He stood up, then, and started walking back down the hallway. The door to his room was ajar, and he stepped inside. The ceiling and walls were white and blue, and he stood outside a room.

"What are you doing?" he asked the voice.

There was a pause.

"I want to play a game of chess."

He heard the static.

He stood up, and walked back to the room, then to the telly, watching the static, and then the telly. He turned the telly on and switched to another channel, then watched the static, then the static, then the telly.

The static was getting more violent.

The door to his room opened.

He stepped in and stood in the doorway to Wonderland.

He had a sword in his hand. He stepped forward.

He saw the walls of the room, the blue walls, the white walls. He saw the ball of tears in the center, the scarecrow sitting in a chair, holding a cane.

The scarecrow's eyes were closed, and it held the cane in its left hand.

"What are you doing?" he asked the scarecrow.

The scarecrow looked at him, and it whispered: "I want to play a game of chess."

He saw the scarecrow holding the cane. He could make out its movements, as it held the cane. The scarecrow's mouth was open, and there was a faint squeaking sound coming from that mouth.

He looked. The scarecrow could make out the figure of a man standing on the floor with the ball of tears. The ball of tears was in the middle of the floor, on the left, in front of the scarecrow. The scarecrow stood on its left, and the ball of tears was facing the scarecrow's right.

The scarecrow looked back at him.

_“What?” he said._


End file.
